


Hero Defined

by stella_pegasi



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-13
Updated: 2010-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stella_pegasi/pseuds/stella_pegasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheppard takes a restless Colonel Caldwell on an easy diplomatic mission off-world. However, the easy mission becomes a matter of life and death as the two colonels are kidnapped and Sheppard is gravely injured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero Defined

**Author's Note:**

> Whumpers enjoy; I whumped Sheppard pretty good in this one. Your thoughts on this story would be much appreciated.

 

**Hero Defined**

_By stella_pegasi_

 

“Rodney, are you ready?   Come on, pissing Caldwell off is a bad start to this mission.”

“Cool your rockets, Sheppard; you get to remain on Atlantis, and amuse yourself with the new fighters.  I, however, will be stuck aboard the Daedalus for three weeks.

Across the room, Dr. Radek Zelenka, who was packing a case with equipment, uttered a stream of words in Czech.  Sheppard’s Czech had improved over the years.  Even he was embarrassed by a few of the words spilling from Zelenka’s mouth. 

The little Czech continued in broken English, “You, you are one who decided this mission would be good idea.  Explore planets without stargate, three weeks the SGC gives us to do this; you know I am in middle of experiment.  Now I must put my work aside.”

McKay looked up from his pad, stared blankly at Zelenka, then stuck his tongue out the engineer.  Zelenka ran his hands through his hair, hair that rivaled Sheppard’s for the wildness award, and began another tirade of rapid Czech.  Sheppard silently thanked the Ancestors that he was not going on this mission. 

“Mature, McKay, very mature, you…” He was interrupted by a deep and distinctly, unhappy voice on his COM, “Colonel, yes; McKay’s on his way.”

“That was Colonel Caldwell; he’s pissed. Go.”  Sheppard herded the two scientists out of the lab, and on their way to board the Daedalus, parked on the East Pier. 

 ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Daedalus had been underway for four days, visiting the first two planets on McKay’s list.  One planet had been a waste of time; the planet’s sun was dying, and any life that had been on that planet was extinct.  The other planet was a bit more promising, but was primordial.  Zelenka had designed small satellites containing sensors and cameras to monitor planets of interest. Caldwell had one placed in orbit, and ordered the Daedalus on to the next planet on the list.  McKay grumbled about not getting a chance to take a jumper into orbit over the planet for a close-up look.  Caldwell suspected that without Sheppard here, McKay just wanted to play jumper pilot.  Not going to happen; he wasn’t going to lose McKay on this little journey. He did not want the wrath of Sheppard to descend on his head.

Caldwell sat in the command chair on the bridge, listening to McKay and Zelenka bickering.  He had endured about all he could; his head hurt, his abdomen hurt, and he was queasy.  One more word from McKay, who was being the chief ‘bickerer’, and he was going to clear the bridge.

“Rodney, we should go to the Zenic system after this one, the Ancients actually mentioned that system.  Picking planets at random is foolish when we have data; this is waste of time.”

“No, we are going to stay on the path we’ve chosen; we’ll get to Zenic, when we get there.  Now go away.”  McKay turned away from Zelenka, who began muttering in Czech.

Caldwell was not as patient as Sheppard, “No, both of you go away.”

“What?”  McKay’s head jerked up from the computer screen he was staring at.

“Both of you off my bridge; take your arguing to the science lab.  I don’t want to listen to either one of you anymore.” 

Both scientists were shocked, neither moving a muscle. Caldwell swiveled his chair around to look at them.  “I’ll will have you removed if you don’t leave now.”  Glancing at each other, McKay jerked his head to Zelenka in a “get the heck out of here” motion, and they left hurriedly.

Caldwell turned back around, asked how long until the next planet fall, then settled back in his chair.  He closed his eyes; only one thought swirling in his aching head.  This was just the start of a long, three week mission. He hoped the nausea would go away.

The next thirty-six hours passed in a blur for Colonel Caldwell.  His XO, Major Marks, was becoming increasingly concerned about Caldwell’s physical condition.  When he asked if the colonel was alright, Caldwell snarled at him, telling the major to mind his own business. 

In the middle of the night, Caldwell woke up with intense pain around his right hip bone, and severe nausea.  He hadn’t eaten, but that didn’t stop the vomiting that only seemed to make the pain worse.  By morning, he was in agony. His entire abdomen felt like it was on fire, and he was burning up.  When the colonel did not report to the bridge at his usual early morning hour, Major Marks called for medics and security to meet him at the colonel’s quarters.  Using an emergency code to enter, they found Caldwell unconscious.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

McKay entered the infirmary, looking for Dr. Breslin, who was the current ship’s physician.  He had just been informed about Caldwell’s condition.  McKay was a bit surprised at the personal level of concern that he felt for Caldwell.  Relationships were peculiar out in the coldness of space; all they really had was each other to depend on.  Despite his reservations about the military, Sheppard excluded, and his dislike of Caldwell for his early, antagonistic behavior toward Sheppard, he was concerned.  He realized that he might actually respect the man. 

He found Dr. Breslin next to Caldwell’s bedside.  Caldwell was sedated, his skin pale and flushed at the same time, sweat beading along his forehead.  Dr. Breslin looked up from Caldwell’s chart as McKay approached.

“Dr. McKay, good morning.”  Breslin didn’t look happy. 

“Uh...hey; what’s the colonel’s condition?” 

Breslin shook his head, “Not good.  We’ve stabilized him, but it appears that his appendix has ruptured.  He’s developed peritonitis, and that is not a good development.  He needs major surgery, and I am an internist, trained in field trauma surgery, the patch and load type.  Dr. Lincoln broke his leg right before we deployed for Pegasus, and we didn’t have time to get another fully trained surgeon on board.  Besides, if he develops even worse complications, the ship’s infirmary is not equipped to adequately treat him.” 

McKay realized that Breslin was really worried; he asked, “Well…uh…should we take him to Atlantis?  Do we have time? Dr. Keller is an excellent surgeon, and so is Dr. Beckett.  He can be recalled from his free clinic mission to assist or vice versa.” 

“Depends on how long it would take us to get there.  He needs surgery, but we have a little leeway.”

McKay tapped his COM, “Marks, how long at max speed, would it take us to return to Atlantis?”     

The major answered, “Hold on, doctor,” Marks paused, waiting for an answer from his navigator, “…under hyperdrive, 7.4 hours.” 

McKay repeated the time to Dr. Breslin who nodded, “Yes, that’s not too long.  We can pump him with antibiotics, and try to get his fever down during transport.  That’ll work.” 

“Marks, Dr. Breslin says we need to get the colonel back to Atlantis, ASAP.  He needs surgery, and Dr. Breslin says he needs to be in the Atlantis infirmary.” 

Marks’ voice was quiet, but clearly in command, “Understood, doctor.  We are changing headings for Atlantis.” 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Marks radioed ahead when they were back in range of Atlantis. Upon arrival, Caldwell and Drs. Breslin and McKay, along with Major Marks, were beamed directly into the critical care bay where Dr. Keller was waiting for them. Dr. Beckett already scrubbing up; he was to be Caldwell’s primary surgeon.  Richard Woolsey and Colonel Sheppard were also in the infirmary.

Woolsey greeted Marks, “Major, welcome back to Atlantis; however, I am sorry for the reason your mission has been cut short.”

Marks replied politely, “Thank you, sir. I agree, not the reason we would have wanted to return so quickly to Atlantis.” He turned to greet the Atlantis military commander. “Colonel Sheppard.”  Sheppard patted him on the back.

“The colonel’s in good hands, major.  I’m sure he’ll be fine.” 

“Thank you, sir.  I know you’re right.” 

Nearly four hours later, Dr. Beckett came out of surgery.  Sheppard and Marks were sitting in the infirmary waiting room, drinking the coffee that Teyla had brought them.  She and Ronon had joined the Air Force officers as they waited.

Beckett sank down on the small couch next to Ronon.  His fatigue evident in the deep sigh he exhaled before he spoke. “That was a rough surgery; Caldwell’s entire, bloody abdomen was filled with pus and infection; peritoneum inflamed as badly as I have ever seen.”  He gazed directly at Sheppard as he continued, “I imagined the colonel was in excruciating pain for quite a while. You brave military types, always seem to forget how to ask for help.  You just bloody go off, ignoring all the warning signs.  Making the lives of the people trying to put you back together hell.”

Sheppard’s right eyebrow arched, he cocked his head, asking Beckett very quietly, “You finished, doc?”

Beckett looked at him, “You cheeky bugger, you know I’m talking about you.  I just thought Caldwell was less the martyr.”  He smiled at Sheppard; both knowing Beckett was simply releasing tension, even though he really meant what he had said.

“What’s his prognosis, Doctor Beckett?”  Sheppard asked, with the emphasis on ‘doctor’.

Shaking his head, Beckett answered, “Well, he’s not well right now.  Pretty sick fellow, but he will recover unless some thing really nasty happens.”

Teyla asked, “Nasty, Dr. Beckett?  What do you mean by that?”

“Nasty, as in, sepsis; uh…blood infection that spreads the infection to other organs.  But, we have him on mega doses of antibiotics.  We should be able to knock the infection down.  Well, I am going to get out of these scrubs, and check on my patient.  You can see him shortly.”

Sheppard and Marks spoke at the same time, “Thanks, doc.”  

As the doctor walked away, Sheppard heard, through his thick Scottish brogue, Beckett mutter, “Cheeky military, all alike.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Two days later, Woolsey, Sheppard, and McKay sat in the main conference room on a vid link to Stargate Command.  General Landry and Colonel Abe Ellis requested a meeting regarding the mission status during Caldwell's recuperation.  Landry and Ellis were sitting at the large conference table at the SGC, visible on the large display monitor. 

“Colonel Sheppard, do you have any reservations about sending your science teams on the Daedalus?  This would be Major Marks’ first full command of an onboard mission.”  The question from General Landry.

"Absolutely not, sir; I have no reservations about Major Marks’ ability.  However, I would like to send Major Lorne to command the Marine units that will accompany the science teams.  Major Marks doesn’t have the same mission command experience that Major Lorne has, nor does he have Special Ops training.”

Landry nodded, “A reasonable request, colonel; I think, a good one.  Deploy your personnel as you see fit, Colonel Sheppard.  Bring Marks and Lorne into the room, Colonel Ellis would like to review some things with Marks; Lorne should sit in on the briefing.” 

“Yes, sir.”  Sheppard tapped his COM and the two majors entered.  Sheppard had them waiting outside.  

Six hours later, the Daedalus launched, returning to the planet exploration mission, without Colonel Caldwell. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

The next twelve days passed swiftly for Colonel Sheppard and the Atlantis pilots. They spent several hours per day training in the F-314, the newest version of the hybrid fighter jet/spaceship.  Sheppard and Major Marks coordinated a flight training schedule for Major Lorne while he was on the Daedalus.  Sheppard hoped the mission would be uneventful, so the major would have adequate flight time.  

The Atlantis commander had been spending some time with Caldwell, updating him on the flight training.  Even supplying him with videos from his collection, and surprised to discover Caldwell was quite proficient on a hand held game player.  As the days passed, and Caldwell’s health improved, Sheppard noticed a spike in the colonel’s frustration level.  Sheppard recognized the signs; he would have already attempted to escape from the infirmary by this point.

In the next mission review meeting, Woolsey requested a mission to a planet called Sarta, the newest member of the Pegasus Coalition.  Woolsey had promised to comply with the tradition of the tribes on the planet.  New friends must visit three times before the moon returns to solidify the friendship.  One more walk through the gate, greet the tribal leaders, participate in a ritual, and the three visits would be completed. Sheppard thought this might be exactly what Caldwell needed, an easy trip through the gate to ease his boredom.

Woolsey agreed to his plan, and proceeded to transmit a message to the Sartans that their third formal visit would take place in twenty-four hours.  Sheppard headed to the infirmary to plead his case to Dr. Keller.  He dreaded talking to the petite doctor; she was far from a soft touch when it came to her patients. He had some persuading to do; something he rarely accomplished with her.

“You want to what, colonel?  Take my patient on a mission, through the gate?  Should I have Dr. Warren talk to you?  You are obviously delusional.”  Keller crossed her arms, and leaned against the doorframe to her office. “I really can’t believe…no, that’s not right.  I can believe you would suggest such a thing.”  She turned and sat down at her desk, “No.”

Sheppard leaned against the doorframe Keller had vacated, trying on his best puppy-dog face. “Come on, Jennifer; it’s a simple and quick trip to a peaceful planet.  We will be there and back before you miss us.  Besides, Caldwell’s getting testy; if you aren’t careful, he’ll start acting like your favorite patient, me.”

She scoffed, “He’ll never be that juvenile, colonel.” 

He tried his most charming grin, “Come on, Dr. Keller.  Let the colonel come with me to Sarta.”

Keller put her head down on her desk, mumbling, “You are going to whine until I allow this, aren’t you?”  She looked up at him.  He bounced his head up and down with an even bigger grin on his face.

“Alright, but don’t make me regret this, colonel.”

“Never, doc.  You’re the best.”  Sheppard took off before she could change her mind.  He wondered how Caldwell would react to the news he would be escaping for a few hours, the next morning.

 ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ 

Sheppard walked into the infirmary around 1000 hrs to find out if Caldwell was ready.  The colonel was sitting on the side of his bed, legs dangling, waiting.  Caldwell was dressed in an SGC field uniform, instead of his usual green jumpsuit.  The green BDU’s and shirt and black t-shirt somehow made Caldwell seem more ordinary to Sheppard.  He chuckled quietly; he supposed what it really meant was that the full-bird colonel appeared quite formidable when he was on the bridge of his ship.  The man sitting before him didn’t appear to be as confident.  A couple of weeks in the infirmary would do that to a person; Sheppard knew that fact all too well.

“Good morning, colonel.”

Caldwell’s head snapped around, as if Sheppard had startled him, “Oh, Sheppard…good morning.  You ready?”

“I am; if you are.” 

Caldwell nodded and attempted to hop off the bed, as if he was in perfect health.  A fleeting, tell-tail grimace crossing his face told a different story.  

Sheppard hesitated for a moment, considering whether he should cancel the mission.  No, he thought; if he was in Caldwell’s shoes, and he had been on many instances, he’d want a change of scenery.

“Let’s go, colonel.”

On the way to the gear-up room, Caldwell asked Sheppard about Sarta and its people.

“We first heard about Sarta when Dr. Hillenmeyer, a horticulturalist, was studying berries and plants that the Evarnans use to dye the fabrics they weave. The fabrics are very high quality and the dyes are brilliant, at least that’s what Teyla tells me.  The Evarnans trade with the Sartans to procure the dyes.” 

“The Daedalus transported quite a few bolts of that fabric back to Earth, if I remember.  Not much for that sort of thing, but I remember the colors were really vibrant.”

“We contacted the Sartans, and began negotiations.  The planet culture revolves around a tribal system; the Bemni Tribe is the largest of the seven tribes that formed the planet’s population.  The Bemni served as the government for all of the tribes, and are the people we deal with.  They do have a tribal council that represents five of the tribes.”

Arriving in the gear-up room, they grabbed TAC vests and P-90 weapons from the racks.  Sheppard handed Caldwell a holster and 9-mil.  As the colonel strapped the holster to his leg, he continued asking about the Sartans.

“What's the reason two of the tribes are not members of the tribal council?”

“The seven tribes consist of five, quite sophisticated tribes, and two tribes ostracized from the rest.  The Bemni warned us to avoid those two tribes. The leader of the Tribal Council told us that the behavior of two smaller tribes could be very unpredictable and violent.”

“Sometimes, it’s the smallest unit that creates the most problems.”  Caldwell replied.

Heading for the gate, Sheppard added, “They divided up the territories’ centuries ago, declaring the grounds the stargate sat on as sacred.  The original tribal council divided the land radiating out from the sacred ground into seven tribal regions.  Apparently, the two smaller tribes received less than prime land, and their lives have always been difficult.  They resented their fate, and have been at war with the other tribes on and off since then.

In the gate room, Sheppard circled his finger in the air for Chuck, indicating for the tech to dial the gate.  As the event horizon formed into a shimmering puddle, he added, “We’ll be met by a welcoming committee from the five tribes, who will escort us to the Council.  We tell them we have visited three times, and we request to be friends.  There is a short ceremony, then we eat, visit for a bit, and get back here before Keller comes after us.”

Caldwell laughed, "I would prefer not to suffer the wrath of that ‘smaller unit,’ colonel.”

Sheppard grinned, “You’re learning.”  Sheppard and Caldwell stepped through the gate together.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

As they exited the gate on Sarta, Sheppard paused for a split second, to comprehend the scene

in front of him.  Colorful objects adorned the beautiful grounds that surrounded the gate. In addition to abundant flower displays, fountains and statues, and tribal territory markers, the welcoming committee also adorned the grounds.  Lovers of color, the tribe members, during ceremonies, wore bright plumage and pants, tunics and robes made from vibrantly hued fabrics.  The members of the welcoming group were dressed in just such bright finery, with one glaring exception.  They were all lying on the lush green turf, just past the DHD, covered in bright red blood.

Sheppard sprinted for the DHD, yelling at Caldwell to drop to the ground.  Skidding to a halt on the stone dais surrounding the DHD, Sheppard succeeded in pressing two symbols, before he slumped to the ground. 

From behind the tree line, between two markers to his left, Caldwell watched as several figures emerged.  Their attackers were dressed in crimson garments, with long feathered cloaks and headdresses, their faces adorned black and crimson symbols.  All carried tall spears; a few were holding long slender tubes of dark, polished wood.  Caldwell raised his P-90 to take a shot, but a tribesman was quicker.  One of the attackers raised a tube to his lips, aimed in his direction. The man blew a puff of air into the tube, and within seconds, Caldwell faded into unconsciousness.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

Sheppard and Caldwell were lying on a raised platform inside an enormous, hut-like building. Thousands of thin honey-hued, wood poles were bound together with strips of leather, fabricating the walls and roof.  Colorful banners fell from the ceiling, swaying in the breeze created by huge fans that were moving air throughout the large room. Tribal members, dressed in bright clothing adorned with feathers, line the walls.  

A group of men dressed in red and gold robes and wearing feathered headdresses sat on a larger platform across the room.  Sheppard thought they looked like roosters. The same wooded poles that fabricated the walls also constructed the chairs that the men reclined in.  Several young men, tapping on small bongo-like drums, sat at the foot of the platform.  At least, he solved the mystery of the tapping in his head.

Caldwell was unconscious and Sheppard was apprehensive. He knew the colonel continued to take low dose pain meds due to inflammation remaining from the serious infection.  He hoped there wasn’t an interaction between his pain meds and the sedative in the dart used to knock them out.  He was already in enough trouble with Keller, and she didn’t even realize it yet.

He decided to stand, might as well see what these over-dressed roosters wanted.  As he began to stir, the drumming stopped, and all eyes turned to him.  One of the roosters on the other platform rose from his chair, walking toward the edge of the dais.

“I am Fristum, Tribal Lord of the Paoini.  You have been brought before me to answer the question of why the Ancestors are entering into an agreement with our enemies.  Our tribe and the Micani’s have been banished for years by the others.  Now, they court the Ancestors, and leave us to fend for ourselves, as they always have.  We demand to know the details of the arrangement that the Ancestors have made.”

Sheppard sucked in a deep breath; convincing these people that he was not an Ancestor was going to be tricky.  Then again, he wondered if he should play along.  He had the uneasy feeling that the Paoini had few qualms about taking what they wanted.  They had just murdered five people to capture Caldwell and him. However, he decided that to deceive them, and then have the Paoini discover he wasn’t an Ancestor, might not be in his best interest.

“Fristum, I am Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, and I do represent Atlantis.  However, I am not an Ancestor.  My people are descendents as of the Ancestors as your people are.  We discovered Atlantis, and established a base there.  We come in peace and friendship.  We only…”  Sheppard stopped abruptly when the tribal lord bellowed.

“Enough; enough lies; you are of the ancestors.  My spies have observed you in the Bemni lands, and watched you use Ancestral magic.  I can prove you are of the ancestors.”  He motioned to one of the younger men standing along the side of the platform; the young man quickly descended the steps and left the hall.

Sheppard remembered the Bemni were excited that he and Rodney had both been able to activate or use some simple Ancient devices that the Bemni had displayed as sacred artifacts.  One artifact had been a medical scanner, one a weather instrument of some kind, but Rodney thought there were more components to it.  Sheppard wondered what the Bemni would think if they realized that the Paoini was spying on them.  Great, they come to a planet and start a war. The IOA and the Pegasus Coalition will certainly be ecstatic about that.

To the right of the large platform, the spectators parted, creating a broad path for four youths.  The young men were carrying an immense tray on which an ornately painted wooden chest was resting.  The four ascended the stairs, mindful of keeping the tray from tilting, and presented the chest to Fristum.  Opening the cover, Fristum cautiously extracted a rectangular metal device.

Sheppard could see there were familiar symbols on the sides of the box.  The device looked to be made from the same metal many of the other Ancient devices were constructed from.

One of the younger ‘rooster’ men rose from his chair, accepted the device from Fristum, then proceeded down the stairs and toward Sheppard’s platform.  Sheppard was apprehensive; if the Paoini were unclear about the device’s purpose, he could cause something terrible to happen.  Terrible had happened before when he and Rodney fooled with unknown Ancient technology.

He spoke, “Fristum that object appears to be quite important to you. You should keep it away from me; I’m known for breaking things.  I wouldn’t want to damage it.”

“And why would that be, that you do not wish to be next to this treasure if you do not already know what it is.  You are an Ancestor, you must know of the prophecy.”

“Prophecy…,” Sheppard swallowed hard, “what prophecy?”

The younger tribal leader had reached the platform steps, and was proceeding to climb toward Sheppard.  Sheppard could see the symbols on the device quite clearly; there was little doubt that it was an Ancient device.  The tribal leader had not reached the top step before the device activated.  The Paoini gasped as a blue glow emanated from a crystal embedded in the center of the cover. A low, harmonic humming was coming from the device. 

Sheppard glared at the device as the tribal leader placed it in his hands.  At his touch, the blue crystal glowed brighter, and the humming became stronger.  Peeling his eyes away from the metal box for a second, he glanced toward Fristum.  The panorama before him was surreal.  All the Paoini tribal members were prostrated on the hut floor, except for Fristum, who was standing with arms upraised.

“Behold, the prophecy is fulfilled.  The Ancestors have returned to lead us into war against our enemies.  What has been denied us for centuries will be ours.” 

Sheppard’s eyes wandered about the enormous room, a sense of dread crystallizing in the pit of his stomach.  These people believed the prophecy, and they believed he was the answer to their problems.

Looking back down at the softly humming Ancient box, his mind was racing.  Challenging prophecies was a tricky path to take, especially with people who perceive they have been persecuted for generations.  Woolsey would be much better suited for this than he was, but Woolsey wasn’t here.  This was up to him.

Sheppard could think of only one appropriate, but inarticulate comment, “Crap.” 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Paoini led Sheppard and carried the unconscious Caldwell from the tribal community hut to a smaller hut on the edge of the circular village. The walkways had been covered with awnings, providing respite from the sun.

Once outside, Sheppard was surprised at the terrain.  The vegetation at the gate sanctuary, and in the Bemni town he had visited before, was lush, green, and abundant.  Sparkling ponds and streams dotted the landscape, while colorful, fragrant flowers and the bird song created a sensory overload.

The Paoini land was stark.  Beyond the huts, Sheppard saw flat, sandy ground extending far into the distance, reminding him of the Mojave Desert. Scrub brush, occasional groves of thin bamboo-like trees, and rugged, rolling hills with peaks of stone created the landscape.  The dry, desert heat was penetrating his black uniform; Sheppard could feel rivulets of sweat sliding down his spine, settling in the small of his back.  As he took a deep breath, minuscule bits of dust seemed to follow the air into his lungs. 

Sheppard snooped around the hut for the first five minutes after the Paoini left. He was too restless to relax. The windowless hut was rather small, with a high ceiling that peaked in the center, air vents circling the top cap.  A fan was lazily spinning about five feet below the apex of the roof, pulling air through vents scattered about the walls.  One section of the curved wall was built out, and through a small door, Sheppard discovered a bathroom. Two narrow beds were sitting in the center of the round room. Caldwell was lying across one of them, still unconscious.  Finally, Sheppard decided that conserving energy was smarter, and lay down on the vacant bed.

Sheppard was calculating the time that Atlantis would be initiating a rescue attempt, when he heard a muffled groan from the other bed. Caldwell stirred and Sheppard hopped up to check on him.  

Caldwell's pallor appeared a little pale, and he was groggy. “Colonel, how do you feel?”  Sheppard helped him sit up.

Dropping his head into his hands, he replied, “Like I was sucker punched. I could use some aspirin right now.” 

Sheppard said, “I can help with that.” He went to a small table where there was a pitcher of water and glasses.  Bringing the water back to Caldwell, he reached into the thigh pocket of his BDU’s and pulled out a couple of packs of ibuprofen.  Ripping them open, he handed one pack to Caldwell and he took the other.

“Thanks.”  Caldwell mumbled.

"You’re welcome, forgot I had them.  Keep extras for when McKay gives me a headache.”  He uttered a half-hearted laugh; Caldwell nodded in agreement.

“Where are we?”  Caldwell remained sitting on the side of the bed, looking around the hut.

“We are with the Paoini Tribe, one of the two ostracized tribes.  They think that we are, or at least, I am, an Ancient.  The tribal leader started talking about some kind of prophecy that foresees an ancestor will return, leading them into war against the five tribes.”

“Starting a revolution without me, Sheppard?”

“Hardly, colonel; I would much prefer you right there with me.”

Caldwell lay back down, “Give me the details.”

 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

Jennifer Keller had dealt with a couple of minor emergencies during the morning, and lost track of time.  It was 13:30 hrs, before she realized that Colonel Sheppard had not returned her patient.

“Mr. Woolsey, Dr. Keller, here; have you heard from Colonel Sheppard?  He promised to return Colonel Caldwell to the infirmary by 1300 hrs.  He’s late.”

“Doctor, this _is_ Colonel Sheppard, we’re talking about.  He’s invariably late when he’s off world.”  Woolsey was returning from lunch, and had just entered the control room.

“I know, but he promised to bring Caldwell back within a few hours.  I believe he meant it; I don’t think he would be late on purpose.”

Woolsey sighed, “Alright, Doctor Keller.  We’ll contact the colonel, and see what’s keeping them.”  Woolsey approached Lt. Chuck Campbell, the senior stargate tech.

 “Chuck, has Colonel Sheppard checked in?

“No, sir; but it’s early yet.  He did say he would be back by 1300 hrs.  To be honest, sir; I figured he would keep Colonel Caldwell out longer."

Chuck, dial the planet and get Sheppard on the COM.”   He tapped COM, “Major Teldy, would you and your team report to the control room.”  Teldy acknowledged Woolsey’s request before Chuck completed dialing the gate.

Chuck initiated the call to Colonel Sheppard, as Teldy entered the control room. Her team followed shortly, filing into the gate room to wait for her.  After several attempts, Chuck shook his head, “Sorry, sir; no response from Colonel Sheppard.”

Woolsey briefed Teldy on the situation and ordered her team through the gate.  As she descended the stairs toward the gate, Woolsey murmured, “I wonder what Colonel Sheppard has gotten into this time.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“So, you have absolutely no idea what the device is used for?”

Caldwell was restless as well, and was pacing around the small room. Sheppard had finished updating him on the events that occurred while he was unconscious.

The device could possibly be a power source;

Rodney found a similar, but smaller box in an Ancient outpost a couple of years ago.”

“What kind of power source are you talking about?  Is it something as powerful as a ZPM?” 

Sheppard heard the anticipation in Caldwell’s voice regarding the term, 'power source', “Not a ZPM, but maybe a lesser power source. I’m no engineer, colonel; McKay or Zelenka needs to take a look at it.”

“When do you think Atlantis will begin looking for us?”  Caldwell gingerly sat down on the narrow bed.

“Well, I suspect Keller will allow little leeway to the time I said I would have you back in the infirmary.  It’s nearly 1400 hrs, I would imagine that Teldy’s on her way, or soon will be.”

“Wouldn’t the Bemni have contacted Atlantis when they found the welcoming party dead?”

Sheppard sat up; he scoffed, “Unfortunately, the tribes feel they are unworthy of contacting Atlantis.  They refuse to dial us; they’ll wait for Atlantis to come looking for us.”

“Well, shit, that sucks; certainly doesn’t help us.”

“No, it doesn’t, but some of these…”  The door opened, interrupting Sheppard’s reply; four tribesmen entered the hut.

“You will come; Fristum summons you now.” 

Sheppard and Caldwell rose, leaving the hut with their guards.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

Major Teldy was not reporting what Richard Woolsey wanted to hear; not at all. Asking the major to stand-by, he instructed Chuck to have Captains' Isaacs and Waters squad’s gear-up and report to the control room.  Woolsey then ordered the flight desk to inform the jumper techs to ready two jumpers for a mission.  He continued with the major.

“Major, the Bemni had no idea what happened to the colonels?”

“No, sir; they discovered the bodies about a half hour after the colonels’ scheduled arrival time.  They waited for us to show up.  Mevo, the Bemni Tribal Lord and head of the Five Tribes Council, suspects the Paoini, or the Micani, or both, may have done this.  They can’t determine from the weapons used to kill the welcoming group which tribe attacked them.  Sir, the one good thing, is that the only blood present was associated with the bodies.  We haven’t found any indication that the colonels’ were injured.”

“Does Mevo know how these tribes even learned that Colonel Sheppard was visiting?”

“No, he doesn’t have a clue how they found out, sir.  Mevo’s pretty upset; he really wants to develop relations with Atlantis.  He keeps telling me that he is so sorry, and for us not to hate him.”

“I’ll refrain from hating Mevo, major, as long as we get the colonels back in one piece.  I am dispatching Isaacs and Waters to you for back-up.  Will jumpers clear the gate area?”

“Good, sir; and yes, there is adequate clearance for the jumpers."

“OK, Teldy, I am sending the jumpers, along with a med team shortly. Report every hour, major.”

“Acknowledged, sir; Teldy out.”  The event horizon shut down as Waters and Isaacs entered the control room.  Woolsey told Chuck to send for a med team to join them.  Next, he asked Chuck to contact Teyla and Ronon, who were off-world on a trade mission.  He knew better than not to inform them; they would most likely gate directly to the planet to join the search.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sheppard and Caldwell were taken to a hut near the large meeting hall, where Fristum and the other tribal leaders were sitting at a long table, remnants of a recently consumed meal in front of them.  The guards shoved the two men to a spot in front of Fristum.

“You have been brought here to tell us the details of the arrangement you have made with our enemies.  I demand you tell us now.” 

Sheppard shrugged, “Sorry, I don’t know the details.”

“Do not play games with me, Ancestor. According to the prophecy, you will lead us to victory against our enemies.  I know you're aware of the terms of the agreement the Ancestors have made with the Five Tribes. I demand you tell us what your agreement is with the Five Tribes; we will not allow them to enter any arrangement with the Ancestors.  You owe us for the plight you left us in; there is scant water, we are incapable of growing enough food to feed our people.  If it were not for the Micani, whose land will support the growth of food, we wouldn’t exist. The Five Tribes kept the fertile land, awash with lakes, and rivers, and rich soil.” 

As he spoke, Fristum was becoming increasingly agitated, until he was red-faced, quaking with anger.  He slammed his fist down on the table, “Ancestor, you will tell us what we want to know, or you and your friend will suffer until you do.  You owe us.”

Sheppard was beginning to realize that the Paoini were more dangerous than he first suspected; those persecuted rarely had much to lose.  Negotiating was not his strong suit, and the Paoini were past reasoning; Woolsey should be here. Woolsey and Teyla had been the coalition representatives that negotiated with the Sartans tribal council.  Sheppard truly didn’t know the details of the agreement.

“Fristum, I have told you, although I am from the ancestral city of Atlantis, I am not an ancestor.  Like your planet and many others, mine was seeded by the ancestors.  Many of the Ancestors returned to my home world to live, and I inherited the gene that allows me to operate the ancestral devices.”

“You expect me to believe you live in the Ancestral city, but you are not one of them.  I am not a fool. Tell me now what I want to know.”  Fristum stood, his anger consuming him.  “Tell me, or you will be punished.”

“Fristum, I am certain that the trade agreements include food, medicines, and other items, but I truly don’t know the details.  I really don’t; let us go, and we will find out for you.”

The tribal leader came around the long table and stood before Sheppard. “You do think I am a fool; don’t you, ancestor. I am not.”

“OK, then take my friend back to the gate; he can return to Atlantis and find out about the treaty.  He’ll come back, I promise.”  Sheppard tried to look sincere. 

“Oh, yes, Ancestor, I will let him go so that he can bring back an army.  Unlike your opinion of me, I do not think you are a fool, but you are being foolish.” 

Fristum motioned to the guards who had brought them.  “You will be repentant after a few hours in the hot pen. We have little shade in Paoini; we will see how you like living in the heat and glare of this star.  Take them.”

The guards roughly pushed Sheppard and Caldwell from the hut and marched them through the village into the surrounding dessert.  Once they left the awning covered walkways of the village, the sun was extremely hot, glaring on the coarse sand that covered the ground.

With each gulp of air he breathed in, Sheppard felt the dry, excessive heat scorching his lungs.  Glancing behind him, he saw that Caldwell was struggling; he was sweating heavily, his skin pale, his cheeks flushed.  Sheppard shuddered; Keller was going to kill him. 

They walked for approximately ten minutes, until they came to an open pavilion, with a high-pitched thatched roof.  Sheppard’s initial reaction was relief, they would, at least, be out of the sunlight, despite what Fristum said.  The guards pushed them toward the platform, then veered them around to the other side.  Sitting on the other side of the platform was a small, round cage made of familiar thin wood reeds, sitting in the direct sun.  Sheppard realized sitting in that small cage in the relentless sun was going to suck.  

He had barely recovered when Caldwell’s body slammed into him, knocking the breath out of him again.

As they lay on top of each other in the hot sand, recovering, the guards closed and locked the gate.  A tall guard, who wore a larger headdress than the others, spoke.  “We will return when the star is low in the sky.  We will determine if you are ready to speak the truth to the Tribal Lord.”

For a few moments, the only sounds came the crunching of the rough sand under the guards' feet, and from Sheppard and Caldwell’s rapid, shallow breathing.  Sheppard struggled to sit upright. The hot, gritty sand burning his palms as he pushed against the ground for leverage.  Once vertical, Sheppard leaned against the cage, and extended his hand to Caldwell, tugging him into a sitting position. 

“You, OK, colonel?”  Sheppard asked.

“No good answer to that, Sheppard,” Caldwell winced, grabbing his right side over his surgical incision.  

Sheppard took his black shirt off, and tied it around his head.  He looked up into the bright sky, checking the sun’s position.  He decided that there was at least four to five more hours of sun.

“Colonel, you might want to cover your head with your shirt.  We’re going to be here a while.”

Caldwell mimicked Sheppard’s head-cover and then sat back, watching Sheppard.  The younger colonel was on his knees, his eyes darting around, checking out the area.  Caldwell could almost see the thoughts swirling in Sheppard’s head; he knew Sheppard was looking for a way for them to escape.  He almost laughed as Sheppard grabbed hold of the wooden cage frame and tried to break it apart.

Sheppard seemed to sense that Caldwell was staring at him.  He looked around at his companion and smiled sheepishly.  He settled back down on ground with a deep sigh.

“It was worth a try; that wood is tougher than bamboo, it’s not going to break.  Looks like, we’re stuck here for a while.  We should probably try to stay as still as possible to conserve energy.” 

“Sheppard, you seem calm, as if this is a normal day for you.”

Sheppard snickered, “Yes, another normal day in the Pegasus galaxy.  Welcome to my life, colonel. Wanna command Atlantis now?”

Caldwell looked at Sheppard with a glint of mirth in his eye, “Touché, Colonel Sheppard.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

Major Teldy was becoming exasperated. Woolsey had sent word to her that Teyla and Ronon would arrived in approximately two hours.  The main village on the planet they had gated to on the trade mission was a two hour walk from the stargate.  She had foolishly informed Mevo, who immediately declared that a search could not be strated until Teyla of Atlantis arrived.  Teldy tried to explain that they needed to search for the colonels immedicately, but Mevo was adamant.  No one would go anywhere until the Ancestor arrived.  She wanted to explain to Mevo that Teyla wasn't an ancestor, but somehow, she didn't think she was the one to do that.  Instead, the Atlantis teams and their jumpers sat idle, waiting for Teyla.

Mevo insisted, once Teyla and Ronon arrived, that she must meet with the Five Tribes Council after another of their ritual greetings.  The council informed her that they had information from a reliable source. The Micani tribe was responsible for the five murders and the kidnappings.  Four hours and one ritual after they first arrived, Teldy ordered the jumpers to head for the Micani territory.  Finally, the major felt less useless.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

They had been in the cage for nearly four hours.  Both colonels were becoming severely sunburned and extremely dehydrated from the intense heat and blinding sun.  Caldwell had briefly passed out a couple of times and Sheppard was becoming quite concerned about him.  The serious infection that Caldwell had just gone through had left him weak.  Sheppard wasn’t certain how much of this heat he could endure. 

And it was hot, the temperature had to be over 100º; even with the low humidity, it was very hot.  The sun reflecting off the coarse sand was bringing as much heat from beneath them as was beating down on them. Caldwell’s green BDU’s had turned to a very dark green from perspiration. Sheppard’s black clothing was soaked through with sweat, and his exposed skin was turning a bright pink.  Any hope he had for a brisk breeze or a cloud had faded as the relentless sunny afternoon drug on.

Looking at the sun’s location, Sheppard expected the guards to appear at any time.  He was fairly confident that Fristum was not going to be in a good mood, but then he wasn’t either.  He leaned back against the cage frame, the thin wooden reeds pressing into his hot back.  This was not a good situation, and he was pretty certain that the next session with Fristum was not going to be pleasant. From where he was situated, he could see the pavilion.  Several large rings suspended from the high ceiling of the pavilion, twin chains hanging down from the rings; shackles he suspected. Sheppard closed his eyes and tried to prepare himself mentally for what he was certain was to come.

He didn’t have long to wait.  The guards returned, roughly pulling the two colonels from the wooden cage.  They ushered the two men to the steps leading up to the pavilion and pushed them onto the platform.  Standing in the middle of the pavilion was Fristum, along with a tall, extremely muscular man dressed in long, loose, flowing black robes.  Fristum’s companion didn’t unnerve Sheppard as much as what he assumed was a weapon in the man’s hand.  The carved, wooden bludgeon was approximately two feet long and five inches in diameter.  The bludgeon struck the muscular man’s empty hand with a solid thud as he swung it back and forth; the weapon looked lethal. The carved surface covered with smooth, raised bumps; straps of thick leather and chain extended another two feet from the end.  As he examined the weapon’s design, all he could think was that club was going to hurt.

“Ancestor, I am pleased to see you have survived your afternoon in our delightful climate.  Are you prepared to reveal what I want to know?

“I’ve told you already, I don’t know anything about the treaty.”  His voice was raspy from exhaustion and dehydration.  At least, he thought, they were out of the relentless sunlight.

“Hours in the brightness of the hot burning star, and you have learned nothing.” Fristum walked up to Sheppard. “I thought you would be the one to lead us to victory over our enemies, but you are no different than the Ancestors who left us here to die.  You have experienced the climate we exist in.  The only thing that saved us was the leaning materials that we took from the Five Tribes Council many lifetimes ago.  The crystals trained us to survive, but not to prosper.  We need the information, you must give it to us now.”

Sheppard wagged his head, “I don’t know what you’re demanding to know.  I can find out, but, right now, I don’t know the details.”

Fristum stared at Sheppard for a moment, then whirled around, his long red robe spiraling around him.  He sat on a large cushioned bench to the right of the rings that hung from the ceiling.  Glancing at the muscular man with the club, he commanded, “Overseer, punish these men for their insolence.”  Indicating Caldwell, he said, “Start with his friend.  Let us see how long the colonel will last, watching his friend beaten.”

Several guards seized Sheppard and Caldwell, and forced them toward the huge metal rings.  One of the guards pulled the makeshift sun hats from their heads, while another shackled their writs to the large rings.  Another guard took out a long bladed knife from his tunic and slashed through their black t-shirts, then ripped the shirts away from their bodies.  Caldwell grimaced as the rings were raised, pulling their arms above their heads. 

Sheppard felt something warm on his already hot chest.  Looking down he realized that the knife had left a shallow cut across his abdomen, blood seeping from the wound.

The overseer began to pace around them, his eyes dark and glowing. His obvious delight at what he was about to do, evident on his pot-marked face. Sheppard watch as the burly man circled them, slamming the bludgeon into his hand.  He stopped in front of Caldwell, staring him in the face, then striking the platform with the chains and thick leather, making a grating thud on the wooden floor.  

Sheppard observed Caldwell closely; he sensed that the colonel was exhausted and in pain.  Yet, the colonel was standing as straight as he could, defiant against the overseer’s stare.  Caldwell served as a wing commander in Iraq while as Sheppard was flying helos as an SO.  He was fairly certain that Caldwell had very limited, if any, experience as part of a ground ops mission.  Hell of a time to start.   

Sheppard realized there was only one way to shield Caldwell from enduring the bludgeon; he needed to make the overseer angry enough at him to make him ignore Caldwell.  He doubted his ruse would work, but he had to try.  Sheppard sucked in a deep breath, and began hurling insults at the overseer.  Albeit, insults the overseer most likely didn’t understand, but he hoped the timbre of his voice would convey his intent.

“Hey, you fucking moronic, ugly son of a bitch, you like beating up on defenseless people, don't you.  You look feebleminded enough.  Why don’t you take your frustrations out on him?”  Sheppard jerked his head toward Caldwell. “He’s unimportant, he can’t help you. I’m the Ancestor.  Injure me, and I will deliver the wrath of the Ancestors down on you.” 

Caldwell was staring at Sheppard; his first reaction was that the Atlantis commander was suffering from heat exhaustion.  Sheppard was breathless after yelling at the overseer. He could see Sheppard’s chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to take in the hot, dry air. 

The overseer ceased pacing when Sheppard commenced his tirade; standing still, gazing at the younger colonel.  As Sheppard fell silent, a smirk spread across the overseer’s rough face.  He approached his quarry, his eyes boring into Sheppard’s.

“You are arrogant, Ancestor, and you are a coward. You choose to have this man suffer your punishment and his; only cowards run from their fate. I will enjoy beating you and watching you bleed.”

The overseer backed away from Sheppard, raising the bludgeon. “See how you enjoy this, Ancestor.”  He brought the club down across Sheppard’s chest, the wooden shaft, slamming into him just above his diaphragm.  The heavy chains and straps of leather whipped around Sheppard’s body, piercing into the skin of his back and chest.  An errant leather thong encircled his neck, leaving a thin line of blood as it fell away. 

The overseer stood back admiring his handiwork, watching as the victim of his torture gasped for breath. He moved to Sheppard’s right and lifted the club again.

Sheppard glared at the overseer, spitting blood in his direction. “That all you got, you fucking son of a bitch.  You couldn’t break a woman, much less an Ancestor.”

The next blow from the lethal club struck Sheppard’s right side just above his waist.  His knees buckled, as his body’s momentum slung him to the left.  The large ring, where the shackles were attached, began to swing from the rafter, its inertia causing Sheppard’s body to sway back and forth.  He hurled another insult at the overseer that was mostly unintelligible.  The overseer struck him again, the blow landed on the middle of his back; the chains and leather straps wrapped around his head and shoulders.  Sheppard had attempted to stifle his reaction to the blows, but this time, the pain was overwhelming.  He screamed from the intense burning and pain that coursed through his body from the blow just below his left shoulder blade.

Caldwell was past angry; he was livid at the beating that Sheppard was receiving.  “Fristum, stop this; you’re going to kill him.  He doesn’t know what the treaty says; he’s telling you the truth.  But we can find out, just stop this!” 

Fristum rose from the bench and approached Caldwell.  “The Ancestor had his chance to tell us; now he pays for his insolence.  Perhaps, if he survives, he will decide to be truthful with us.”  He started to walk away, but turned back to look at the colonel, “Do not worry; the Ancestor will not be alone in his punishment.  You are next.”

The overseer stuck Sheppard three more times, across his kidneys, his abdomen, and his left hip.  Bruises from the raised bumps on the club’s surface and the chains were already beginning to turn purple.  Rivulets of blood trailed down his body from the cuts made by the leather thongs and skin, split by the force of the blows.  Sheppard’s body hung limp from the shackles, his head dropped to his chest.

Caldwell was holding his breath, fearful that Sheppard was dead. He exhaled when Sheppard’s body swung around to face him, and he could see the battered man’s chest rising and falling.  His breathing was shallow, but Caldwell was relieved, he was breathing. 

The overseer walked up to Sheppard, grabbing the colonel by the hair and pulled up his head.  “He is unconscious, Lord Fristum.”

Fristum replied, “Then it is time for you to amuse yourself with our other guest, overseer.”   The overseer bowed to the tribal lord, and pivoted toward Caldwell; his face wearing the same smirk as before.

 ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­&gt;

Sergeant Dusty Mehra was well aware that her team CO, Major Anne Teldy, was highly aggravated.  She needed to remember not to ask the major questions in such a casual manner.  She had wanted to know what the major planned to do next. However, her flippant ‘so, what now,’ question had collided with a pissed off major.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry.  I should have been more respectful; I apologize.”  Mehra was standing at attention.

“Oh, hell, Mehra, don’t be ridiculous, at ease.”  Teldy pivoted away from her, and Mehra visibly relaxed.

Teldy briskly walked over to Teyla and Ronon, who were standing with Tribal Lord Mevo. They had succeeded in coercing him from the jumper, but he had refused to converse with the Micani.  He informed Teyla he refused to speak to an impure tribe.  His remark confused Teldy; she found the Micani to be a lot more humble and courteous than the Bemni.  From her observation, Mevo was more concerned about Atlantis honoring the treaty than he was about the colonels’ fate.

Ronon seemed to share her frustration; Teyla had her usual calm, diplomatic face on.  Teldy was uncertain whether to be jealous of Teyla’s ability to remain composed, or be simply pissed off at herself for being so agitated.

“Teyla, the Micani people are incapable of kidnapping the colonels and killing those people.  They are too timid and nice and frail.  I doubt they would even defend themselves if they were attacked.”  Teldy leaned against the jumper, hands resting on her P-90, a somber expression on her face. 

“I concur with you, Major Teldy; the Micani citizens appear malnourished and unwell.  Yet, we flew over fertile land in the valleys, abundant with crops.  Mevo, what is happening here?”

“The Five Tribes maintain minimal contact with them, since they were ostracized; they are unworthy.  As to what is occurring here, I refuse to speculate. You should ask them.”

Ronon looked down at Mevo, resisting the urge to throttle the man.  “I will.”  Ronon walked off, and Teldy motioned to Mehra to accompany him. 

Teldy turned to Teyla, “Let’s find Waters; he was attempting to locate someone responsible around here.  Maybe he got lucky.  Corporal Deter, remain here with Lord Mevo.”  As she and Teyla walked toward the dingy village, Teldy looked back to see Mevo dart into the jumper, sitting down in the cockpit.  She chuckled to herself, “Real brave leader, that one.”

Teyla had been shocked at the conditions in Micani when they first arrived. As they entered the village, the disparity between tribes was appalling.  Every village she had visited within the Five Tribes was bright, clean, landscaped, modern; the people healthy, well-fed, well-groomed, attired in beautiful, colorful clothing.  Not in the village of Wervi, the tribal seat of the Micani; here the tribe members were dressed in drab clothing.  Their homes were made of mud bricks, the landscaping sparse.  Rocky hills and mountains covered the small tribal land, with the exception of several fertile valleys where they cultivated crops.  A river that originated in one of the Five Tribes territories flowed into another, barely meandering through the south west corner of the small territory.  That river, along with rainfall, was their only source of water.

Teldy spotted Captain Waters, standing with Ronon and Sgt. Mehra; she and Teyla headed toward them.   As they approached, they noticed a tall, scrawny man was standing with them.

Captain Waters made the introduction, “Major, this is Corva; I was just coming to find you when Ronon arrived.  Corva has told us some interesting things.  Corva repeat what you told us about what happens to the food and water.”

Corva was nervous, and barely raised his eyes.  “The Paoini demand we provide them with most of our food and water.  If we do not deliver what they require, they will take our people and make slaves of them on their land.  My wife is one of their slaves. She was taken two cycles ago, because I lost part of my crop of bunous to insects and my harvest was very bad.”  Waters held up a vegetable that looked like a skinny, orange eggplant, indicating it was a bunous.

“They do not leave you enough to eat?  Is that why everyone is so thin and looks so ill?”  Teyla asked. Corva nodded.

Teyla reached out for Corva’s hand, “This is wrong, Corva, and we are going to help you.  I promise we will be back with food, water, and medicines for your people, as soon as possible.  I also promise you that we will bring your people home.”  Teyla’s smile was warm and sincere and tears began to stream down Corva’s face.  “We will be back.”  Teyla turned to the Atlantians.

“We need to talk to Mevo.”

When they arrived back at the jumper, Teyla had to grab Ronon’s arm to keep him from storming the jumper to grab Mevo.  Teyla managed to calm him down, and she, Ronon, and Teldy entered the jumper.

“Mevo, these people are sick and malnourished; they are not responsible for the kidnapping of our friends or the death of your people.  Who told you they had done this?”

Mevo looked frightened, “The Micani did not take your people?  But…but he said…”

Ronon took a step closer to Mevo, “Who said…?”   Mevo backed up as far as he could in the chair.

“Saries, he is the one who told the council that the Micani were guilty. He works for the Tribal Council as a land administrator.  If it is not them, then it must be the Paoini.  But Fristum is crazy, he could not pull this off…Saries says he is crazy.”

“’Saries says’; I bet he does.”  Ronon grunted and slammed the bulkhead with his fist. “We have lost valuable time, time Sheppard and Caldwell might not have.”

Teldy hit her COM, “All teams back to the jumpers, A-sap.”  Looking at the others, she quietly said, “Let’s go find our colonels.”

 __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Caldwell had never been subjected to torture or capture by the enemy.  He had flown air missions in fighters or commanded an air wing, but he never served in a special ops unit.  Sheppard, on the other hand, was an SO, and had been both captured and subjected to torture many times.  He had acquired a respect for Sheppard over the years that he was reluctant to disclose to anyone.  Until today, however, he hadn’t understood what made John Sheppard the man he was.

He had been struck with the bludgeon three times before Fristum ordered the overseer to stop.  The Tribal Lord didn’t see the need to beat on him if Sheppard wasn’t awake to witness his torture.  Not that Caldwell minded whatever the reason.  It had been nearly an hour since Fristum halted his beating.  He was surprised that the pain caused by the chains and leather thongs seemed to intensify as time passed.  

Sheppard had been unconscious for most of that time; he had stirred once, looked up and then promptly passed out again.  Fristum had departed from the pavilion shortly after he ordered the overseer to halt his beating, and the overseer had also departed. He suspected there was some sort of room under the platform where he had retired to.  Only a couple of guards remained on the platform.

He dozed off a couple of times, but he fought to stay awake, to keep an eye on Sheppard.   He couldn’t help Sheppard, and he was sure as hell unable to rescue him.  All he had left was to keep watch over him.  Caldwell was concerned about the apparent injuries on Sheppard’s body, and those that were just developing.  Sheppard’s body was a mass of cuts, bruises, swelling, and caked blood.  He realized his own injuries were similar, just not inflicted with the same intensity as Sheppard’s.

Sheppard…what was he going to about Sheppard. Arriving on the platform, he had been very groggy from the heat and wasn’t focusing well. He heard the insults Sheppard shouted at the overseer. At first, he thought the sun had gotten to the younger colonel, but as he cooled down out of the sunlight, he realized the damn fool had been trying to protect him.  Knowing that he was still recuperating, the younger man had baited the overseer to come after him.  He knew Sheppard thought that if the overseer became enraged, he would expend all of his energy on him.  He had tried to stop them when he comprehended what Sheppard was attempting to do.

Caldwell understood the horrors of torture, but nothing could prepare anyone for the pain, the fear, the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness.  Today he had experienced that pain and fear, albeit briefly, and that was enough.  Caldwell realized that there was only one thing could allow Sheppard to take this kind of punishment…courage.  John Sheppard displayed more courage than he had witnessed in anyone, more courage than he possessed certainly.  Now he understood why Sheppard risked his life and career to disobey orders. When his strong moral compass told him it was the correct thing to do, he followed his convictions and did what he thought was right. John Sheppard could face each day in a dangerous place like the Pegasus galaxy without fear, because of that one trait…courage.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off the colonel, and caught the slight movement of Sheppard’s head.  Within a few minutes, Sheppard was fully conscious, rather groggy, but awake.

“Sheppard, can you hear me?” He waited a moment, then repeated Sheppard’s name. He could barely hear Sheppard’s reply.

“Colonel?”  Sheppard’s voice was raspy, weak.

“Yeah, it’s me; how you holding up?”  Caldwell attempted to maintain an even voice and sound positive.

“Been…bet…better.”  Sheppard’s head rolled to his chest again.

Caldwell smiled ever so faintly as he thought that this was the first time Sheppard’s hair looked better than he did.  He tried to reassure the colonel.  “Don’t talk, Sheppard.  Atlantis will be here for us soon.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

The jumpers landed outside the Tribal Council building in Bemni.  Teyla wasn’t certain who was more anxious to get their hands on Saries, Teldy or Ronon.  From the tenacious look on Teldy’s face, Teyla decided if she were Saries, she would prefer to take her chances with Ronon.

Regardless of who was the most intimidating, Saries quickly confessed to his part in the plot to kidnap Colonel Sheppard.  He had become involved with a Paoini woman he met when surveying land along the Paoini border.  She was the daughter of a Paoini Tribal Councilmember, and had persuaded him to help the Paoini gain their rightful place with the Ancestors.  He swore he had nothing to do with kidnapping any of the Micani people. He begged them to believe he didn’t know they were going to kill the welcoming committee.

Teldy ordered additional jumpers and Marines from Atlantis.  Within an hour, the jumpers, crammed with Marines, departed for  the main Paoini village.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

When the guards realized that Sheppard was conscious, they sent for Fristum. Within fifteen minutes, he and the overseer walked into the pavilion.  The Tribal Lord halted in front of Sheppard.

How can I prevent the Five Tribes from profiting at our expense again, if I do not know what to sabotage?” 

Fristum uttered the last words in a crescendo of emotion. The tone of his trembling voice had become high-pitched, shrill. Waiting for Sheppard to respond, the tribal lord rocked from side to side, obviously becoming irritated and impatient.  When Sheppard offered no response, Fristum motioned for the overseer to approach. 

His voice now gruff and demanding, Fristum said, “Colonel Sheppard, I assume your silence is a refusal to cooperate. You leave me with only one choice.  The overseer will proceed to strike your friend repeatedly until you decide to tell me what I want to know.  If you value his life, you will tell me what I must know.  Your choice, colonel; the life of your friend is entirely in your hands.”

Caldwell felt a fresh surge of adrenaline course through his body; this situation was about to go very sour.  He watched as Sheppard struggled to raise his head; finally managing to look at Fristum in the eye.

“You…bas…bastard,…called…me a co…coward.  You…are the…fucking…coward.  Not…tellin’…you anything about…treaty.”  Sheppard spat at the Tribal Lord, bright blood spraying from his mouth. Sheppard’s green eyes were dark and blazing with anger as they bore into Fristum’s.  

Rage at not getting the information he wanted, contorted Fristum’s face, and consumed his thoughts.  He stood for a moment, glaring at the shackled colonel, who stared back at him. Fristum snatched the bludgeon out of the overseer’s hand, “You are arrogant; you assume because you are an Ancestor that you are superior to us.  You play favorites, play with our lives, and leave us to die. I will not permit it any longer.”

“If you want revenge, you son-of-a-bitch, you need to take it out on me.”  Caldwell’s deep voice, weak and gravely from the sand and lack of water, interrupted Fristum. “I am his superior officer, and higher in the ranks of the Ancestors.  I can help you more than he can.”  Caldwell tried to look formidable, but he doubted that he was pulling it off while hanging from shackles.  He was beginning to see that Fristum was fixated on the treaty and the Ancestors, but nothing he was saying made sense.  The Tribal Lord lacked the means to prevent the treaty. He was fantasizing that he had the power to influence the outcome.  Caldwell realized they were in the hands of a delusional madman.

The shackles binding his wrists provided the only support preventing the colonel from collapsing on the platform. Fristum pummeled him several times in the back with all the strength he could muster.

Between the sounds of his own screams, Sheppard heard Caldwell shouting for Fristum to stop.  Sheppard was losing consciousness again; as his vision faded into darkness; he thought he heard the hum of jumpers de-cloaking.  He hoped he was right, and the cavalry, in the form of some very large Marines, had landed.   

As Sheppard drifted into unconsciousness, Caldwell heard the hum as well.  He jerked his head toward the darkening sky to see a sight he had been wishing for, six jumpers materializing just above the sand outside the pavilion.  Two of the jumpers landed, and as the ramps settled into the sand, Marines exited and stormed the pavilion. The other four jumpers departed, headed for the village.

The overseer and several of his henchmen ran to the opposite side of the platform, clamoring down the steps at the end of the pavilion.  Once on the ground, they ran toward the village, four Marines in pursuit.  Their departure left only Fristum and three guards on the platform. 

Caldwell watched, with relief, as Major Teldy and a bevy of Marines, along with Ronon and Teyla, sprinted toward them. The Marines quickly subdued the guards. Fristum was becoming frantic, as the Marines closed in on him.  Standing behind Sheppard, the Tribal Lord raised the bludgeon above his head, directly over the unconscious colonel.

Teldy, Teyla, and the Marines raced onto the platform, but they skidded to a halt when they saw Fristum standing over Sheppard with the bludgeon. Teldy moved closer, P-90 raised, muzzle aimed at Fristum’s forehead.

“Put the club down, now.”  Major Teldy’s voice was calm, her tone forceful, her weapon steady. 

Fristum’s eyes were darting from Teldy, to Teyla, to the Marines; he was clearly frightened, but he didn’t waiver.  Looking back at Teldy, he spoke, his voice agitated. “If you wish for him to live, you will leave Paoini immediately.  That’s all you have to do, just go away.  I’ll let him go; I’ll let them both go, if you do that.”

“We can’t do that; you need to put the club down and back away from the colonel. I’m not going to give you another warning.”  Teldy glanced to her right, where Captain Isaacs was standing. With only the slightest bob of her head, Isaacs understood exactly what she wanted him to do.  Isaacs blinked twice at her in acknowledgment. He caught the eye of Lieutenant James and conveyed the same message.  On Teldy’s mark, they would rush Fristum before he could strike the colonel with the bludgeon.

Teldy tensed and nodded to Isaac’s to execute the order. As both men initiated the move, they were startled by a bright red glow surrounding Fristum; the unmistakable sound of Ronon’s blaster accompanying the light show.  The Satendan warrior was standing at the top of the steps on the other side of the pavilion.  He had circled around to approach Fristum from behind. The Atlantians watched as Fristum sank to the ground. Then as a unit, they rushed toward the colonels.

Teldy tapped her COM, giving the all-clear signal to the med team to come to the platform. Two Marine’s bound Fristum’s hands and feet with disposable restraints and dragged the tribal leader away from Sheppard.  One Marine stooped to pickup the bludgeon.  The Marines examined the club, which was covered with the colonels’ blood, glancing at their CO, and then at Caldwell.  After seeing how much dried and fresh blood was on the weapon, they were both shocked the colonels were alive.

Captain Isaacs and two other Marines rushed to Caldwell to unshackle him.  He noticed Dr. Julian Jackson and a med team heading toward him, as well.  Isaacs and the Marines slowly lowered him to the floor, mindful of his wounds.  Slipping his ruck sack from his shoulders, Isaacs placed it under the colonel’s head. Once still, Caldwell watched as Teldy, Waters, Mehra, and Ronon unshackled Sheppard, and gently laid him on the wooden platform. Teyla, Ronon, and Dr. Keller were surrounding him.  He saw the concern wash across Dr. Keller’s face, and once again, Caldwell felt an adrenaline rush flood his body.  He hoped they were not too late.

The tall, lanky Dr. J, as the Atlantians called him, knelt on one knee next to Caldwell, and began checking his vital signs. He immediately checked Caldwell’s vital signs while the medics with him began to wipe away the caked blood. Once satisfied that the colonel was stable, he began a cursory examination of his injuries. He examined the colonel’s surgical incision site, then went on to the multiple injuries inflicted by the overseer.

“Colonel, can you tell me where the pain is worse, and on a scale of zero to ten, how bad is the pain.?”

“My chest, about a…I don’t know, it hurts pretty bad. Look, I was only hit a few times; Sheppard, they just kept…hitting him.  He needs both of you, doc.  Go…take care of him.”

“Dr. Keller’s got everything under control; if she needs me, she’ll let me know. I am here for you.”  Dr. J began giving orders to his team. One of the medics proceeded to start an IV while the other covered Caldwell with an emergency blanket.  Dr. J placed a small sponge soaked in cool water in Caldwell’s mouth, allowing Caldwell to suck on it for a few seconds.

“Sorry, colonel, no more water than that; we need to make sure there is no surgery in your future before I can give you anything to drink.  We’re going to get you loaded up in a few minutes, and get you back to Atlantis.  I promise a cool and comfortable night ahead for you.  I’m going to go check with Dr. Keller, and let her know how you are doing.”  Caldwell started to speak, but Dr. J cut him off.  “I’ll find out how Colonel Sheppard is doing, and I will let you know.  Rest.”

“Colonel?” 

Caldwell opened his eyes to see Major Teldy kneeling next to him. “Major, what’s happening with  the tribe.”

“Sir, we have Fristum and the overseer in custody, along with several guards. I have teams going through the village, we are recovering hostages from the Micani.” 

“What are you talking about, hostages?”

“The Paoini tribe has been seizing the bulk of the crops, and considerable water from the Micani. When the crops fail to meet the volume the Paoini requires, they have been kidnapping Micani people, forcing them into slavery.  We're going to shut down the Paoini’s little fiefdom, and return the Micani to their homes.”

“Word of warning, Fristum is not sane, he is delusional, and probably won’t be cooperative.”

“Sir, I’d better let you rest.  We…” The major stopped abruptly, as Caldwell interrupted her.

“Teldy, as the senior officer here, … I’m in no shape, and obviously Sheppard isn’t, to command the military contingent. I am placing you in temporary…command of the Atlantis military, until Major Lorne returns.  Major; command is yours.”  He had looked over toward the medical staff that was still crowded around Sheppard.

Teldy flashed a tenuous smile, “Understood, sir; thank you, colonel.”  She paused, glancing toward the medical staff treating Sheppard.  “Colonel, he’ll be OK.  I’ve never seen anyone who can beat the odds like Colonel Sheppard; he’s pretty tough, sir.”

“I’ve never come…across anyone…with so much courage, or pigheadedness.”  Caldwell didn’t realize he had spoken what he was thinking, out loud.

Teldy laughed, “Colonel, you are so right on both counts. Colonel Sheppard is certainly courageous; but, when he’s in protect mode, he can be particularly stubborn.  Sir, we’ll be getting you to a jumper in a few minutes, and you’ll be back in Atlantis before you know it.” 

Minutes later, the medics moved him onto a backboard, then onto a stretcher.  Two burly Marines picked up the stretcher for the short walk to the jumper.  As they passed by Sheppard, Dr. Keller intercepted the two Marines carrying him.

“Colonel, Dr. J said you were stable; that’s why I didn’t come over.”  She paused, “John’s in pretty bad shape. I am certain he’s bleeding internally; we are trying to stabilize him a bit before we move him.  I am sending you back to Atlantis with two medics; I need Dr. J here.  You’ll be in the infirmary in thirty minutes; you’ll be fine.”

“Doctor, is he going to make it”

“Colonel, I can’t even speculate right now.”

“You know; we didn’t do anything, but come through the damn gate on a routine mission.  You know, he took the brunt of the beatings for me.  Damn fool could have died here; yet he decided he had to save my life, doctor.”  Caldwell began to breath rapidly, causing Keller some concern.  She needed to get him on his way to Atlantis.

“Isn’t that what John Sheppard does, colonel?   Save our lives, every single day.  I promise, we will take good care of him.” 

She nodded to the Marines, patted Caldwell on the shoulder, and turned back to Sheppard.  The last thing Caldwell heard was Keller asking for a blood pressure report.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“McKay, you need calm down; Dr. J is com…”

“Why the hell didn’t you contact us when this happened, and why won’t you let me in there?” 

Rodney glanced at the towering Satendan, fear concerning Sheppard, as well as irritation at Ronon, inscribed on his face.  He quickly dropped his head, as if he loathed looking at Ronon.

Ronon was attempting to keep McKay from barging into the infirmary at 0300 and waking everyone. Major Marks gave Woolsey a heads up that McKay was frantic to get to the infirmary.

Woolsey had Major Marks beam him down in the infirmary waiting room where Ronon was prepared to intercept him.

“Ronon, is he gonna die?”  Rodney’s voice was quivering, and he still couldn’t look at Ronon. The scientist was rocking back and forth, rubbing his hands.  Ronon flashed a little wistful smile; Rodney’s mannerisms were a clear tell that he was very worried.

Ronon grabbed Rodney by the shoulders and steered him to a chair; pushing him to sit and then taking the chair next to him.  He inhaled as much air as he could pack into his lungs, then sighed, releasing most of the air before he answered Rodney.

“Little man, I don’t know if Sheppard’s going to survive.  Last night, his heart stopped, twice; I’ve never seen Jennifer so relieved when she got his heart started again that second time.  I don’t believe she thought he was coming back.” 

“How’s Caldwell?”

“He’s gonna be fine; just needs time to heal.”

Rodney, nodded his head slightly a couple of times, chewing on his bottom lip.  He was glad about Caldwell, but he possessed very little desire to talk about anything; he just wanted to see Sheppard.  As he and Ronon sat in silence, the infirmary door slid open and Dr. J. walked into the waiting room.  He sat on the bench across from them; fatigue oozing from every pore of his body.

“Dr. McKay, sorry to keep you waiting.  Some of his injuries have become infected, probably something on the bludgeon that was used on him. We’re culturing it now, but I needed to get him on another course of antibiotics.”

“It’s OK, doc; it’s bad, isn’t it?”  Rodney was now rubbing his hands together with so much pressure, his skin was turning red.  Ronon put his hand on Rodney’s shoulder, and Rodney visibly calmed a bit.

“Yeah, we have to be pragmatic; Colonel Sheppard is gravely injured. I’ll give you the Cole’s Notes for now, doctor.”  Dr. J brushed his hand across his extremely short hair; his normal café au lait skin color was pale, dark hollows beneath his eyes.  “The colonel’s critical problems are acute respiratory distress syndrome and blunt myocardial injury. This means that the blows to his chest from that despicable weapon not only jarred his chest, but also bruised his lungs and his heart, as well as several other organs. We’ve had to put him on a vent; he isn’t able to breath on his own right now.”  He paused, to stifle a yawn.

“He was bleeding internally; Carson spent a few hours risking surgery even though Sheppard was really unstable, repairing the tears in his liver, pancreas, and intestines.  We have real issues dealing with the impact of surgery, but he would have definitely died without having it. In addition, he has four broken ribs, a minute crack in his left hip, and bruised kidneys. Did I mention more bruises, cuts, and skin tears than we bothered to count?”

Rodney was dumbfounded.  He wasn’t certain what to say; he turned to Ronon; but he couldn’t speak, his voice wouldn’t cooperate.  His best friend, the best friend he had ever had, was in danger of dying. All of his knowledge, all his intellect, all his accomplishments couldn’t help him save his friend. 

“You ready to see him, Dr. McKay?” Dr. J asked as he stood up.  McKay nodded, and the doctor continued, “You probably wouldn’t recognize him, if we didn’t tell you it was him.  His face and body are badly swollen, and he is covered with bruises and cuts.  There are a lot of tubes, equipment, and staff around him.”  Rodney nodded again; Dr. J. took his arm, and led him into the infirmary.

Rodney was shaking, grateful for Ronon’s large presence close behind him, his hand lightly resting on Rodney’s shoulder.  He saw Teyla first.  Her tiny frame was standing at the foot of Sheppard’s bed, her hands gripping the footboard.  She turned as she heard them approach, running to Rodney when she recognized him.  Tears flowing from her eyes, she embraced Rodney tightly; and he grasped her tightly, as well.  Teyla this distraught frightened him more than he realized.

Pulling away from him, Teyla took his hand, “Come, he needs you.”  Rodney followed her to Sheppard’s bedside.

Although he knew that Sheppard would look bad, it didn’t prepare him for the sight before him.  Sheppard’s normally angular, lean, handsome face, was swollen, bloated, covered with bruises and cuts.  Yet…he would have known it was Sheppard, no way he wouldn’t have known.  A gentle smile crossed his face as he looked at his friend. 

Teyla noticed and asked him, “Rodney, are you OK?”

Rodney looked at her, “Dr. J told me I wouldn’t recognize Sheppard, but he was wrong.  I’d know that hair any where.”

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Steven Caldwell woke up to the sound of hushed, hurried voices nearby.  He opened his eyes slowly adjusting to the bright light coming from across the room. His chest tightened, the light was coming from the location of Sheppard’s bed. Several medical personnel, talking rapidly and working frantically, surrounded the colonel.

“Thanks; how is he?”

“Blood pressure just dropped; real bad, I think.”

Caldwell glanced down at his watch, it was 0515; he had finally gone to sleep around 0100, but he didn’t feel like he had been asleep at all.  As he looked around the trauma bay, he saw he wasn’t unique. Everyone was standing completely still, watching the doctors’ efforts.  Everyone looked utterly exhausted and frightened.

As he watched McKay’s face, full of fear for Sheppard, he heard Beckett’s voice, relief evident in his tone.

“Pressure’s back to a fairly decent level.  Look’s like he’s stable for now. “LJ”, don’t take your eyes off that monitor.”  Air Force medic Sergeant Leon “LJ” Jones nodded.  Beckett knew the Air Force medic wouldn’t leave his CO’s side. LJ had become extremely attached to Sheppard.  When the colonel was in the infirmary, the 6’7”, 260 pound medic wouldn’t allow anyone else to tend to him.

Keller and Beckett walked over to Rodney and Teyla, and then Keller noticed Caldwell was awake.  She motioned for them to move to the colonel’s bed.

She smiled at Caldwell, “How are you, this morning?”

“Fine; how’s Sheppard?”

Glancing at Beckett, she replied, “We need to be completely honest with you; the situation is not good. The damage to John’s lungs and heart is very severe. Each time his pressure drops, or his heart stops, it’s more difficult to revive him.  His blood pressure is up to an acceptable level for now, but we can’t raise it to the earlier levels.  Currently, he is unable to breath on his own.”  She dropped her eyes, not able to look at any of them. “I’m afraid the outcome is not looking good.”

No one spoke for a time, each alone with their own thoughts.  Rodney searched Jennifer’s face, and then Carson’s, “You aren’t giving up on John, are you?”   Rodney's voice was shaky, whispery. His blue eyes moist, imploring them not to abandon the colonel.

Teyla responded immediately, placing her hand gently on Rodney’s cheek.  “Of course, they won’t give up on John; none of us are going to give up.”

Carson smiled, “You daft bugger, we'll never give up on him. John Sheppard is fighting for his life, and we’re fighting with him.”

Ronon spoke, “He’ll make it, and he’s not done fighting yet.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

_It was dark, very dark.  Normally, when she entered his consciousness, his energy interacted with hers, producing colorful patterns of swirling electricity.  This time, it was dark. His heart was not pumping efficiently enough to sustain his energy level. Each time his heart stopped, the healers had managed to revive him. However, each time he came near death, he required more energy to restore him. Energy she could provide, but she was unable to communicate with anyone else; only he had a strong enough gene to join with her.  She had to find a way to transmit the energy to him; she had to find a way to let someone know what she needed to have done. She didn’t have much time._

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was late in the afternoon of a very long day.  Dr. Beckett insisted Teyla return to her quarters; she had refused, but he enlisted Kaanan to persuade her.  She had left, but vowed to be back after a shower, a short nap, and a visit with Torren. Beckett didn’t even try with Rodney and Ronon; he knew getting them to rest was a losing battle.

The Daedalus had landed on Atlantis’s East Pier, and Dr. Breslin and the ship’s infirmary staff was covering for the Atlantis staff as they concentrated on Colonel Sheppard’s care.  Dr. Breslin had become Caldwell’s primary physician, but Dr. J was still keeping an eye on him.  Breslin had allowed him up to walk around unattended, and Caldwell had taken advantage of it.  He needed to move around. The last few days had been among the most trying of his life.

“Did he suffer?” 

A low, shaky voice from behind, startled Caldwell, and he pivoted around to see who was behind him.  It was Rodney McKay, sitting on the balcony deck, leaning against Atlantis.  Caldwell approached him, and very carefully, he sat down next to the scientist.

“McKay, I wish I could tell you that he didn’t suffer, but I can’t.  He suffered; he suffered for me.”  Caldwell’s voice was quiet, measured, the pain of the experience evident in his tone.

“Suffered for you, what the hell do you mean, he suffered for you?”

“Knowing I was recovering from surgery and a bad infection; Sheppard baited the overseer to make him so angry at him that he would forget about me.  It worked, too well.  When I finally realized what he was doing, I tried to get them to come after me, but it was too late.  The overseer was getting entirely too much pleasure out of beating Sheppard. When they got around torturing me, they stop after hitting me three times when they realized Sheppard was unconscious.  Fristum didn’t want to waste time with my beating if Sheppard couldn’t watch. McKay, he took this beating to protect me.”

Rodney took a deep breath, “Yeah, well…that’s our flyboy.  Stupid, pigheaded, ‘Mr. Protector’, ‘Mr. Martyr’, damn him, damn him all to hell; he doesn’t seem to get it.  He doesn’t realize that we are better off with him than without him, but no, he has to always be protecting us. Now, he’s gonna die and he won’t be able to protect us.” 

Caldwell glanced at McKay; pain was engraved on the scientist’s face. “You don’t know that, McKay.  That flyboy is the strongest man I have ever seen.  I thought he was weak; but there is nothing weak about him.  I thought he was insolent, cocky; that he thought he was smarter than his commanders, that he knew better what needed to be done.  You know what, he is smarter.”

Rodney grunted, “You finally figured that out, colonel?  All those times you chose to belittle Sheppard, questioned his ability, tried to make him feel inferior, and all because he didn’t follow your precious chain of command.  Now, you get around to the realization he was right; figures.”

Caldwell sighed deeply, “He _was_ right to go after those soldiers in Afghanistan; the commander, who didn’t give the order, was wrong.  I know that now, because I know where Sheppard comes from.  He has more courage than any person I have ever seen.  He’s strong; his moral compass so centered, that he can’t help but do the right thing.  I was wrong about him.”

“Yes, you were, and I hated you for it.  He deserved accolades for the job he did here after Sumner died.  John didn’t get that, did he?  It took Elizabeth to get the promotion he deserved for him; no thanks to you and the Air Force.  Every one of us hated you for it.”

Caldwell closed his eyes, leaning his head against the tower. “You have to understand, McKay, I thought Sheppard was reckless, lazy, only doing what he had to do to get by.  Sumner was a good friend, and I held Sheppard accountable for his death.  I realized quite a while ago that he was not responsible for Sumner’s death. The Wraith killed him.  Sheppard did what Sumner asked him to do; I would have done the same thing.”  He paused, he had never admitted to anyone that he was wrong about Sheppard, and he found it quite cathartic to verbalize it. “I should have told him that I was wrong; Sheppard needs to know that.”

Rodney shifted, resting against the tower wall, “Let’s hope you have the chance to tell him, colonel.”

 _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_She was aware that the one with the large brain had the gene, the gene was different, not an exact copy. It did, however, allow him to interact with Ancient technology and with her. They could not communicate in the same manner as she could with the other. Perhaps she thought, she could reach him, make him understand what she needed to do. He was touching her, she had to try.  She began transmitting a mantra, repeating it over and over while he pressed against her, ‘touch him, touch me’._

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Rodney was absolutely positive that time was completely screwed up.  Sheppard had suffered through three more blood pressure crashes during the next twelve hours. As the doctors worked on him, time seemed to pass at hyper speeds, a complete blur filled with panic when everything happened too fast. When Sheppard was resting, more stable, time crawled as they watched him for any sign of improvement.  There was no improvement; as the hours passed, if anything, he was becoming weaker.

Rodney, Ronon, Teyla and Lorne were sitting in chairs near Caldwell’s bed.  Rodney had been quiet for far too long and Teyla was becoming very concerned.  Every so often, she would see a flash of confusion, pain, something passing across his face.  Several times, he had gotten up, walking to a wall of the tower, placing his hand on the wall or leaning against Atlantis, a look of intense concentration on his face.  She knew John could communicate with Atlantis.  She wondered if Rodney was trying to reach Atlantis to see if the city could help John.   

Rodney rose from his chair again, trying not to wake Ronon, who had finally fallen asleep after being awake nearly forty-eight hours, or Caldwell, who was also dozing.  He walked out onto the balcony and Teyla followed him.  She joined him as he sat down on the balcony deck, his back against Atlantis. 

“Rodney, you are very restless.  I know we are all very worried, but there seems to be something distressing you.  Are you alright?”  She looked at him questioningly.

He sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t know, something is rattling around in my head.  I can’t focus.  It’s like I have forgotten something, something important.  It’s driving me insane.”

“Perhaps, you are simply worried about the colonel.  I could help you meditate; meditation might help you to relax.”  She slipped her hand into his, gently squeezing, to let him know she was with him.

“I don’t kno…” Rodney didn’t finish his reply, Ronon burst through the balcony door. 

“Come, now…he’s crashing.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

_The comprehension of fear was not part of her programming. Yet, her years with him had exposed her to the passion he felt for the people he cared about. As an artificial intelligence unit, she could learn. She had experienced his fear and guilt when his friends were in danger or injured. What she was experiencing now must be fear because he was dying, and she did not know what else to do.  She must discover a way to contact the brainy one, to help him understand.  She would have to do something drastic. It was the only way._

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The doctors worked relentlessly to restart Sheppard’s heart.  Dr. Breslin and his team joined with the Atlantis staff, and after what Rodney thought was the longest period of his life, the colonel’s heart was beating…barely.  The tight group of observers standing next to Caldwell’s bed included Sheppard’s team, Lorne, and Richard Woolsey, and they were pale and anxious.  As Beckett and Keller walked toward them, they knew…it was almost over.

Beckett spoke first, his brogue thick, his voice filled with emotion, “John is alive, but I canna lie to you.  He is not going to sur…”  Tears began flowing down the doctor’s cheeks, and he couldn’t continue.  Beckett broke down, silent sobs racking his body.  Marie, his nurse since the expedition arrived on Atlantis, put her arms around him, tears raining down her face as well.  Dr. Keller was trying to control her emotions; she continued for Beckett.

"John's heart and lungs are simply too weak, he can't sustain his heart rate, even with the vent breathing for him.  It's just a matter of time; I wish...uh...oh, I wish I could give you better news.  He/s just too tired to fight; he has no energy left to fight with.  I think it would be good for all of you to take a few minutes with him."  At that point, Jennifer reached for Rodney and fell against his chest, crying.

Caldwell couldn’t talk; he was too filled with emotion watching these strong people grieving for Sheppard. Major Lorne was trying to maintain a stoic face, but tears fell from his eyes.  Richard Woolsey stood a bit off to the side, looking devastated.  Teyla and Ronon walked toward Sheppard’s bed; Ronon holding on tightly to Teyla. Caldwell was about to speak to Woolsey when Atlantis seemed to explode around them. 

Arcs of electrical current jumped from outlets to equipment, light bulbs were bursting all over the infirmary, and alarms were beginning to sound from all over the tower.  McKay and Keller parted as Rodney tapped his COM, yelling for Zelenka.  Keller ran to Sheppard’s bed where she found Ronon and LJ covering John with their bodies to protect him.

“Zelenka, what’s happening?”  Rodney was yelling over the din so that Zelenka could hear him.

Caldwell got up from his bed, heading for Lorne. The major was talking to someone over his COM.  Woolsey joined them.

“Major, are we under attack?” Caldwell asked.

“No, sir, no attack, nothing; but this is happening all over Atlantis.”

Rodney McKay was standing in the center of the room, surveying what was happening. The three men walked to him.

Woolsey asked, “Doctor, what’s going on?”

“It’s Atlantis; Zelenka says this is all coming from Atlantis.  It’s like she’s hysterical, she must realize…Sheppard’s dying.  She’s in…pain.”  Rodney was looking around, his eyes blank.  “No, there’s…something more, someth…”  A bolt of electricity shot from a monitor next to Sheppard’s bed, arcing over Ronon and hitting Rodney’s earpiece.  He screamed, falling to his knees.  Dr. J was closest to him, and he dropped to the floor beside Rodney.

“McKay, McKay; Rodney, talk to me.  Medic, I need a medic over here.”  Dr. J was attempting to lower McKay to the floor, when Rodney shoved him violently away.  The doctor slid across the floor into Caldwell’s bed. 

Rodney sprang up, running to Sheppard’s bed. He clutched Ronon’s arm, pulling him away from the bed, yelling, “Move, I understand now, she’s trying to save him.  She needs me, so that she can help him.”

As he grabbed Sheppard’s arm, Rodney heard Teyla calling his name, asking what was happening.  He glanced at Sheppard for a second, then slammed his hand against the wall behind the colonel’s bed.  Instantly, Rodney and Sheppard were bathed in a pale blue glow emanating from a stream of blue electrical current emerging from an outlet over Sheppard’s bed. Rodney’s body was rigid, his eyes open, but he didn’t appear to be focused on anything or anyone. 

Dr. Beckett and Dr. J approached Rodney cautiously; Beckett spoke to him, trying to get his attention.  Dr. J extended his arm to touch him, but was unable to get close. The electrical charge that was entwining itself around the two men was too strong.  Keller was being restrained by Ronon, as she screamed for Rodney to let go.

As they watched, the current, which seemed to soak into Rodney, and then flow from Rodney to Sheppard, began to change color.  A warm golden current was flowing from the outlet replacing the ice blue, and within seconds, the two men were surrounded by a glittery glow.  For what seemed like an eternity, the golden light held them motionless.  Then slowly the golden energy faded back into the wall.  Atlantis was quiet.

The medical staff rushed toward Sheapprd and McKay. As the doctors arrive, Rodney glared at them, "Back off; she did all that she could do. Give it time to work.”  

Keller came to stand next to Rodney, putting her arms around him. “Rodney, he’s gone.  Look at the monitor, he’s flatlined; there is nothing we can do for John.”

“No, no, no…he’s not dead, Atlantis wouldn’t allow that; just give him time.”  Rodney pulled away from her.

Beckett had motioned to Lorne and Ronon, and they were almost to Rodney, intending on removing him from Sheppard’s side, when one of the monitor’s began to beep. The infirmary fell silent except for the beep of the machine.  The heart monitor was beeping and slowly the rate increased.  The vent began to move, but it was becoming evident that the ventilator was reacting to Sheppard’s own breathing.

Rodney moved his hand down from near Sheppard’s elbow to his hand, lightly touching him.  Sheppard grabbed Rodney’s hand, and opened his eyes. Rodney heard Jennifer’s voice in the background, ordering the breathing tube removed, as he smiled down at Sheppard, “Hey, flyboy, welcome back.” 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_She gently slipped into his consciousness, and found him waiting for her.  Their connection was extremely tenuous, but he was sentient of her presence. He remained a part of her; she would have been devastated had she lost him._

 “You saved my life.”

_"No, the one with the large brain saved you; I only gave you the tools to repair the damage.  He gave you the opportunity.  I could not have done this had he not understood."_

“Then I am where I always find myself, needing you and him.  I need all of them.  Thank you.”

_“Rest; I will always be here.”_

As she faded from his consciousness, John Sheppard smiled at her description of Rodney, ‘the large brain.’  He wondered what Rodney would think of that.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

The next two days passed quickly as Colonel Sheppard made a miraculous recovery.  He was sitting up, as Dr Beckett was examining him, and Dr. Keller was reviewing his lab report.

“I would love to know what Atlantis did to heal you, John.  The heart and lung injuries you had should take months to recover from.  There are barely any indicators that you were ever injured.  You continue, laddie, to be one very lucky son-of-a-bitch.”  Beckett hung his stethoscope around his neck, then raised the colonel’s scrub top to check on the numerous cuts and bruises. “Even these cuts are healing quickly, and I believe there will be minimal scarring, if any.”

Sheppard had not regained all of his strength, and he was tired from the poking and prodding that he had been subjected to all morning.  He laid his head against the pillows behind him, and closed his eyes for a few minutes while, Beckett and Keller continued to poke him.  After a bit, they stopped; and he opened his eyes.

“You guys done?”  He asked with just a bit of twinkle in his eyes.  He was about to continue when Rodney walked up.

“You OK, colonel?”

“Yep, ready to get out of here…right guys?”  He looked back at his doctors, who frowned.

Sheppard continued, “OK, I take that as a no.  Rodney, the doc’s asked me how Atlantis did this; how did you realize what she wanted to do?”

Rodney shook his head, “I didn’t, not until she hit me with the power surge, she must have embedded some kind of signal, message, I don’t know.  But before that, it seemed like when I would touch the walls, I would feel something, and it just kept getting stronger.  When she went berserk and started blowing up things, I felt she was trying to get my attention. I…”

Sheppard interrupted, “She was. Atlantis told me she was trying to get through to you; she calls you the ‘large brain’.”  Sheppard watched for the reaction he expected from Rodney, and he got it, Rodney was positively preening. “Don’t let it go to your already big head, McKay.”

“Bite me, Sheppard,” Rodney snarked, crossing his arms over his chest, feigning anger.

“Rodney,” Jennifer and Carson admonished Rodney at the same time. 

Sheppard laughed and continued, “I had a conversation with Atlantis last night.  She couldn’t communicate with me because my energy level was too low.  Rodney has the gene so she tried and apparently did manage to get through to him in some manner.  She said when she realized that it was almost too late, she had to do something drastic to get Rodney’s attention.  So she tried to blow up Atlantis. Well, not really, she just needed to get the electrical power built up to transfer the healing energy.”

Rodney remarked, “She got everyone’s attention with that.”

“Healing energy, John, what did she mean by that?  Beckett asked.

“Not certain, she told me that the ancients had devices that would heal.  I suppose something like the Goa’uld healing device.  She said there was recharger in the Atlantis system.  She diverted the power configuration from the recharger to use on me.  But the healing energy had to go through someone with the gene; she couldn’t just zap me with it.  Rodney was her only hope.”

“Do you know where this is and how we find the devices?” Beckett asked, Keller nodding enthusiastically beside him.

Sheppard smiled, “Yeah, she showed me, I’ll show Rodney.”   Both doctors grinned at the possibility of an Ancient healing device.

As Keller and Beckett started to walk away, Sheppard stopped Keller and asked, “Hey, Jennifer, are you mad at me for getting Caldwell into trouble?”

She walked back to the bed, a very solemn expression on her face. “I should be livid with you, but I’m not.  I am just thankful that you are alive, John.  I’ve been around here long enough to realize that shit happens.  None of you go looking for trouble, but trouble is out there.  It’s just good to know you are still with us, we need you.”  She smiled, patted him on the arm, and rushed off to catch up with Beckett.

Rodney sat down on a stool next to Sheppard’s bed.  “So, how are you, really?”

“I’m really OK, Rodney.  Thanks, by the way; Atlantis knew you were the only other person she could count on.  If you hadn’t figured it out, I…well, you know.”  Sheppard looked away.

“It wasn’t me, Sheppard; it was Atlantis.”

Sheppard smiled, “Yeah…she likes me.”

“Oh, god, it’s a Kirk thing.”  Rodney gave the colonel a disgusted look, causing him to start laughing heartily.

Grabbing his side, Sheppard said, “Rodney, don’t make me laugh.  My ribs still hurt.”

“If I might ask, what’s so funny, colonel,” Richard Woolsey, a bit jovially, asked as he entered the trauma bay. He was accompanied by Colonel Caldwell and Major Lorne.

“Rodney.”  The three men seemed to accept that answer without any further explanation.

“Colonel, are you up to chatting for a few minutes? We have some information about Sarta that you might want to hear.”  Woolsey waited.

“Yes, sir; in fact, I would like to know what’s been going on there.  Lorne filled me in a bit yesterday, before Keller ran him off.”

Woolsey spoke, “Well, colonel, Dr. Warren has examined Fristum; he diagnosed him as delusional which comes as no surprise.  Apparently, Fristum has been jealous of the Five Tribes all of his life. There is no ‘prophecy’; that was only a figment of Fristum’s imagination.  He had enslaved the Micani many years ago, and began the process of taking their food and water.  When you showed up, able to control Ancient technology, he became convinced that the Ancients were conspiring against him, and he had to fight back.  Fristum and his tribal council are currently under arrest and being held in Bemni.”

“Colonel, before you were out of the woods, we sent some Marine teams with food and medicine to help the Micani.  We have returned all of their kidnapped people.  We have Marine guards in Paoini to keep the peace.  While most of Paoini seemed repentant of their council’s behavior, there were some who didn’t want to give up the good life or their slaves.” Lorne added.

“Dr. McKay, have you told the colonel about the device?”  Woolsey questioned the scientist.

“Not yet.”  McKay turned to Sheppard.

“Zelenka went to Paoini and brought back the box you activated, it is a power source. I sent him back to get the Ancient artifacts that were on display in Bemni.  I think when all those pieces are assembled that the device will turn out to be an Ancient weather machine.  From what little information we have located in the database, possibly a device that could have altered the climate in Paoini.  I don’t think the Ancients meant for those two tribes to suffer. After the Ancients left Pegasus, most of the Ancient data on Sarta was destroyed in a Wraith attack.  They didn’t realize what the device could do or how to use it.”

“Colonel, I have spoken with representatives from the Pegasus Coalition, and they are going to assist in getting the two tribes back on more equal footing with their neighbors. Now that the infirmary is getting back to normal, Dr. Beckett has assembled a team, and he’s going to spend some time with the Micani, helping them get well.  It’s going to take time for the Five Tribes to accept them, but I believe it will happen.”

Sheppard looked a bit pensive as he replied to Woolsey, “That’s good.”

McKay wasn’t so happy, “Yeah, Sheppard nearly dies, Colonel Caldwell is beaten, and everything is just great.  They should have to pay for what happened to John…them.”

“McKay, stop; this is just what happens. If good comes from this situation, then at least we have that.” Sheppard told his friend.

“Well, colonel, that’s about all the update we have.  We’d better leave before Dr. Keller kicks us out.  Glad you are feeling better, colonel.”

Woolsey and Lorne turned to leave, but Caldwell held back.  He glared at McKay, who glared back, then realized that Caldwell wanted him to leave.  McKay caught on that Caldwell wanted to talk to Sheppard alone.

“So, uh…I’m headed…uh…back to the lab.  No telling what these idiots did while Zelenka and I were gone.”  As he walked away, they heard him say, “At least, they didn’t blow Atlantis or each other up; a miracle.”

Caldwell sat down on the stool that McKay had vacated, but remained silent, eyes cast downward.

Sheppard watched him, a half-grin on his face, he broke the silence.  “Well, colonel, come to bust me to major for getting you beaten up on your first off-world mission?”

Caldwell looked up at Sheppard and shook his head. “There’s the problem, colonel, that you might actually believe that.”  Sheppard didn’t reply, and Caldwell continued. “No, I didn’t; I came to thank you.”

Surprise flooded Sheppard’s brain; he wasn’t prepared for a humble Caldwell.  “No need for thanks, I shouldn’t have asked you to go.  I put your life in jeopardy when you were still recovering from surgery.  I’m just thankful you’re OK.”

“Sheppard shut up and listen to me.”  When it appeared Sheppard was about to speak, he added, “That’s an order.” 

“I wanted to thank you for saving my life.  I know what you did to keep the overseer from beating on me, to protect me, and it nearly cost you your life.  It would have cost you your life if Atlantis and McKay hadn’t done what they did.  You would have died protecting me.  That’s a hard thing for me to live with, colonel.  I haven’t exactly been your biggest fan; yet, you would have died to save my life.”

Sheppard was glad he had been ordered not to speak; he didn’t know what to say.

“The fact is Sheppard, I owe you an apology.  I was wrong about you.  When I found out about Sumner’s death, and I knew your record, I just assumed you’d fucked up and somehow, caused Sumner to die.  Then I found out you pulled the trigger and shot him; I wanted to kill you myself.”

Caldwell rose from the stool and began to pace. “I know now, you did what he wanted.  I would have done the same thing.  I’ve known that for a long time, but couldn’t bring myself to apologize to you.”  He stopped pacing and grabbed the footboard of the bed. “I wanted command of Atlantis so you couldn’t have it, but, well, Weir had more clout than either, I or the Air Force had.  The fact is you have done a hell of a job here, Sheppard.  The Ancient gene thing aside, I am not certain anyone could have done a better job.  I have gained a lot of respect for you and your ability to command."

Sheppard felt he had to say something, “Colonel, I…I.., uh…thank you.”  He found he couldn’t say anything more.

Plopping down on the stool again, Caldwell looked at Sheppard for a long minute, neither saying a word.

“You know Sheppard, I thought that you were reckless, a grandstander.  I knew you were one hell of a pilot; that you were one of the best SO’s out there, but I thought you were a cocky, know-it-all. I have always believed in the military code, and I never questioned the need for a chain of command.”  He paused as if to gather his thoughts, “You’re a smart guy, Sheppard; you understand that chain of command is important. Yet, you ignored it to rescue three people.  Chain of command be damned; you did what you knew was the right thing to do, not the correct thing to do.  I know that you knew the consequences, and you were willing to risk your career just to do the right thing.”  He stood up again, walking to the end of Sheppard’s bed.

“What you did for me, to protect me, from Fristum, was the most courageous thing I have ever seen.  But then, I have seen you do some other courageous things…like flying a suicide mission into a hive ship.  Even the fact that you never backed down from me, even after the way I treated you, never cowered, just stood up for what you thought was right, that showed courage.  I believe, colonel, that you are the definition of a hero.”

Caldwell stood ramrod straight, coming to attention. He looked Sheppard directly in the eyes, as he spoke. “Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, it is an honor to serve with you.”

Underneath the fading bruises and lacerations that marred his face, Sheppard had turned a deep shade of crimson.  He found himself at a complete loss for words.

“Sir, I don’t know…thank you, sir.  Despite our differences, I have always respected your command.  As I have gotten to know you better, I have gained considerable respect for you as well.”

Caldwell turned to leave; as he approached the door, he pivoted toward Sheppard again,” Just don’t forget I outrank you, colonel.”

Sheppard smiled broadly at the full bird colonel, “Doubt if you will allow me to, sir.”

Caldwell chuckled, and gave Sheppard a huge grin before he exited the trauma bay.  Sheppard gazed at the empty doorway for a bit, marveling again about life in the Pegasus galaxy.

_The end…_

__

_I hope you enjoyed; if you would, please let me know…regardless.  Thanks!  I really appreciate all of you who took time to read this story._


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